Mike wiped his hands as he walked downstairs.
Punching walls is not as stress-relieving as punching thugs.
A door was ajar, and inside were several gang members whose faces were beaten to a pulp.
"I am not God; I cannot save everyone, nor do I want to save everyone. I cannot go back to the past to save that child; all I can do is avenge him. This pervert has angered me," Mike said, his voice filled with murderous intent, "You can continue to cry, continue to blame yourself, continue to despair… or you can do something useful."
"You're going to kill Purple Man?" Jessica looked up, "If Purple Man dies, what about Hope?"
"No, how could I kill him! I am a good person; how can a good person kill someone, right?" Mike sneered, "I will hold the Bible and pray for him, in the name of the Holy Father and the Son, to admonish him, help him, and save him from the abyss of the devil. I will devoutly tell him: God will not abandon any of His people. No one is beyond saving; as long as they sincerely repent, even if they stabbed God in the ass, he will forgive them."
Even if Jessica was an idiot, she could tell Mike was being sarcastic. She repeated, "What about Hope?"
"Perhaps you should ask Hope; compared to being released without charge, she might prefer to avenge her parents," Mike said, "Besides, there are too many ways to help Hope get acquitted… You probably have some misunderstanding about American law."
Anyone familiar with the "O.J. Simpson murder trial" knows that the American ruling class doesn't care about "justice"; they care about "procedural justice" and the order that "procedural justice" brings.
"What should I do?"
"It's simple."
Saying that, Mike stepped forward and gently hugged Jessica, who instinctively tried to struggle. Mike said, "Don't struggle, just like this. Maybe that pervert is watching here with a telescope. After your plan failed, he must be even more cautious. Since we can't find him, let him find me."
The core of Mike's plan was only two words: jealousy.
Jessica played a heartbroken, desperate girl—no acting needed, just her natural self.
Mike played a sunny knight, determined to save Jessica, and then slowly pulled Jessica out of the abyss.
Purple Man would go crazy, and after going crazy, he would definitely kill Mike, and then he would fall into the trap.
It was a simple strategy, but effective against a man "in love," wasn't it?
Mike took the opportunity to kiss Jessica on the forehead.
Trish was stunned when she saw Mike suddenly hug Jessica.
The style of the scene suddenly changed.
Then she heard Mike's plan.
She thought it was effective.
The only problem was, wouldn't Mike be putting himself in danger this way?
Mike pulled Trish over, seemingly for the three of them to huddle for warmth, but in reality, they were discussing the details.
These past two days, Mike's care for Jessica was meticulous; a warm man in a Mary Sue drama would be like this.
Facing Jessica's unreasonable demands, Mike always slightly curved his lips, revealing a doting smile that almost made Jessica… vomit.
At this moment, Jessica was drinking fish soup made by Mike himself.
"That's disgusting, the way you smile."
"Idol dramas are like this, just bear with it. At this time, it's best for you to slightly lower your head, acting as if you're touched but don't want to be discovered."
"That detailed?"
"If you're going to act, act the whole part."
"Oh." Jessica lowered her head and drank the soup.
"Wow, expressing inner turmoil while appearing calm by speeding up swallowing. Women truly are natural actors."
"Uh." Jessica rolled her eyes at Mike, "The soup is simply delicious. What kind of soup is this?"
"Milk fish chowder," Mike said, "Made according to an online tutorial, not bad, right?"
"Professional chef level, the kind that makes a restaurant's business boom."
"Just home cooking, far from professional."
After Jessica finished the fish soup, Mike got up to wash the dishes, and after tidying things up, he said, "I'm leaving; I'll come back tomorrow."
Jessica hesitated, "According to American speed, shouldn't you stay overnight?"
"No, no… When a man can get a free one, but doesn't act, why do you think?"
Jessica thought for a moment, "He's… impotent?"
"Uh…" Mike said helplessly, "It means he has a greater goal, like getting one every day. In plain terms, he wants a stable boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. So Purple Man should be anxious."
"Oh, right, after I go downstairs, you go to the window and watch me drive away until you can't see me, like a girl in love, understand?"
"Got it, you're so annoying, now get out."
Jessica, as Mike said, watched the apple green lamborghini drive away, slightly lost in thought.
"Driving a lamborghini to deliver stewed soup, that must be on the list of most dramatic scenes," Mike grinned.
Suddenly, someone rushed out from the curb and blocked the car's path.
Mike sharply swerved the steering wheel.
The sports car instantly lost control, drifting two circles on the concrete road, leaving black tire Marks, and finally stopping just at the side of the road.
The car door opened.
Mike got out, his face grim.
The person blocking the middle of the road reeked of alcohol, muttering something incoherently.
A figure emerged from the shadows of the building; his hair was meticulously styled, and he wore a purple suit.
It was Purple Man.
The drunkard had rushed into the road under his control, his purpose to force Mike to stop.
"No one can take Jessica from me, no one! Jessica is mine," Purple Man approached Mike and said, "You deserve to die! But don't worry, I won't let you die too easily…"
Slap!
Mark, who had his back to Purple Man, turned around and slapped Purple Man.
Purple Man was stunned.
Why wasn't Mike controlled?
"Damn it, this is my new car! If you damage it, will you pay for it!"
Slap!
Another slap.
"Approaching someone from behind in the middle of the night, scaring people, it's terrifying!"
Slap!
"Such a powerful ability, instead of controlling the President of the United States to start a World War, instead of controlling Tony Stark to transfer money, you just use it to bully girls? Are you worthy of your superpower?"
Slap!
"I just want to hit you, too lazy to think of a reason."
Wow!
Purple Man spat out a large mouthful of blood, mixed with a pile of teeth.
The bad news was, his teeth were all gone.
The good news was, he wouldn't have to worry about cavities anymore.
Mike kicked Purple Man flying, and at the same time threw a kunai, which stuck in Purple Man's chest.
Mike slowly walked over, looking down from above, and stepped on the struggling Purple Man.
"Do you want to speak, but have difficulty breathing, chest pain, and hemoptysis? Don't worry, this is traumatic pneumothorax. Generally, with traumatic pneumothorax, as long as you get timely rescue, you won't die. Unless it just happens to injure the pulmonary artery. Do you guess if the kunai is stuck right in the pulmonary artery?"
"Oh, it seems it really is a bit of a coincidence. Now I'm going to pull out the kunai; it will hurt a lot, bear with it… There was a little boy, only six years old, who was shot in the same spot."
Pfft!
Blood splattered.
"You guess again, will you die from excessive blood loss, or from internal bleeding blocking your windpipe, suffocating to death?"
"You…" Purple Man opened his mouth with difficulty, but couldn't say anything.
Mike continued, "You shouldn't have chosen such a secluded street to make your move; no one for you to control, no one for you to take hostage…"
Many thugs peeked from a distance, seeing the apple green lamborghini parked by the road, a hint of greed flashed in their eyes, but no one dared to approach.
"You must be very curious, why I am not controlled…" As he spoke, Mike suddenly stopped.
Purple Man, lying on the ground, turned pale, his eyes having lost the light of life.
"Looks like he died of suffocation."
"Today I talked too much nonsense; sure enough, my thoughts are not clear enough."